#tsit

“Mally, my dear, today, I’ve decided, is to be very important,” Tarrant stated matter-of-factly.

The Dormouse stabbed her needle into a bit of bread, “And why is that, Hatter?” she asked, nibbling on it.

“I haven’t the slightest idea.”

She giggled just as the March Hare and the White Rabbit came thumping down the path to the Tea Party. “Look, Hatter, Thackery brought another person to our party.”

He clapped his scarred hands, “Splendid!”

The Hare came to a jumbled halt, righted himself, and announced, “The White Queen was unable to part with any tarts!” He saluted and fell into a chair.

“A rhyme!” the Hatter exclaimed.

“Yes, yes, a rhyme,” the Rabbit said dismissively, “I’ve brought a letter for Hatter.” He drew the folded parchment from the pocket of his waist coat.

Tarrant took the letter, “A letter! Who on, in, or under Earth is sending me letters?”

“This was with it, as well,” the Rabbit arranged a package of tea on the table.

Tarrant’s eyes were flicking over the letter, taking in the words rapidly. The handwriting was neat and curly, similar to the hair on the head of the girl who wrote it.

“Who’s it from?” the Dormouse squeaked.

“Alice.” The name eased from Tarrant’s lips.

“About time she wrote to us!” the Hare snapped indignantly.

“It’s not for you!” Hatter snapped back. “Honestly, Thackery, you’re always such a selfish moron with ears that can’t accommodate hats! Why would Alice write to you? The letter is written to-!”

“Hatter!” Mally interrupted.

He looked down at her and swallowed. The yellow in his eyes receded, the natural green returning. “Sorry. As I was saying, the letter is written to...to me.”

Mally’s ears grew red.

“I need a pen!” Tarrant announced. He thrust a hand into his coat  and removed a scrap of parchment. The White Rabbit passed him a pen. There was a muttered, “Thank you, Nivens,” and the Hatter was writing.

Dear Alice,

I haven’t written a letter in years! This is so queer! A rhyme!

I haven’t tried the tea, but thank you. A very merry un-birthday to you, as I missed your birthday. As you said, I don’t forget things, and you were so...different when you were younger.

We miss you, Alice. Thackery says the White Queen asks after you. We can’t believe everything Thackery says, though. He’s mad, you know.

Tell me, why is a raven like a writing desk?

“Who are you writing, Alice?” 

“An old friend. That’s all.” 

Dear Tarrant, 

It’s been ages. I should’ve written sooner, but I didn’t know how to get it to you from China. 

I’m returning home from Hong Kong now. It was a massive success! We’ve established four new trading posts! Isn’t that exciting? 

As I’m sure you know, because you don’t forget things, I’ve recently turned 20. I didn’t get a single birthday wish!  Can you believe that? 

I’m enclosing a package of Chinese tea for you to try. I enjoyed it, but you might not. I hope you do.

Send your reply with the White Rabbit.

Alice 

The letter was folded and hidden in the pocket of a blue dress. Alice ran her finger across the corner. She hoped the Rabbit would be able to deliver her message.

“I can walk from here, thanks,” she said sharply as the coach rolled on to her street.

“Good luck, young lady,” her companion said warmly, squeezing her hand.

She smiled gently, “Thank you, Lord Ascot,” and hurried from the carriage.

Her boot heels clicked on the cobblestones as Alice approached her home. “Mother!” she called, opening the door. “Mother! I’m home!”

An older maid hurried in from the adjoining sitting room. “Oh! Alice dear!” she rushed forward and took the leather suitcase from the blonde girl, “You’re home! Your mother went to dinner with Margaret and Lowell.”

“Oh,” Alice said with a faint sigh. She rested her hand in her pocket once again. She stroked the letter. “I’ll be in the back garden, then. I’ll come inside in a little while.”

[Cal didn't know when his tolerance for bullshit had gotten so low, but with his very stupid lack of a filter with Holden the day before, and Brodie today had made it apparent that his passiveness was at an all time low, and he still couldn't figure out if it was a good or a bad thin